


this truth won't set you free

by jdphoenix



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/M, Season/Series 01, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2016-02-08
Packaged: 2018-03-31 01:30:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3959335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jdphoenix/pseuds/jdphoenix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The moment you learn the truth, everything changes. Even you. Especially you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Over on tumblr, shineyma requested “You cannot possibly blame that on me! I was in Russia!” and it got _super long_. (Okay, I also combined it with a fic I'd already started so that didn't help.)

 

The light is too bright, the room too quiet. Every inch of her body, cushioned beneath fluffy hotel sheets, aches. She thinks she was dreaming about Ward. He kissed her smarting hand and told her to be more careful. It was a lovely dream.

 

 

 

_twenty-five days after_

 

“Ward!” Jemma calls across the cargo bay. His shoulders fall and his head tips back. It’s similar to his attempts at keeping his cool during the berserker incident. She can’t really blame him. This is the third time she’s calling him into the lab today.

Skye’s reaction is just the opposite. She dances from foot to foot, reenergized now that she’s been freed from her workout, however briefly.

Jemma waits patiently for Ward - with Skye trailing behind - to reach the lab. “I need you to open this,” she says, holding out a sealed set of extraction tools.

Ward snatches it out of her hand. “Why don’t you ask Fitz?”

“Do not try to pawn her off on me!” Fitz snaps from his side of the lab.

“Payback,” Jemma says, ignoring Fitz.

“Oooooo,” Skye calls. “What’d he do?”

Ward looks genuinely worried he’s done something to incur her wrath. It’s terribly endearing. And oh, that crush of hers is only getting worse, isn’t it? She’d hoped that some distance while the team was on leave would help. Obviously that was not the case.

She puts his worries at ease with a smile, and lifts her splinted right hand. “I got _this_ because of you.”

“What!” Fitz yells.

Skye is just as quick with, “Ward!”

Now he just looks confused, his eyes ping-ponging between her face and her hand as he tries to puzzle this out. “You cannot possibly blame that on me,” he says finally. “I was in Russia!”

“Hey! Simmons said no missions!” Skye is enjoying this entirely too much.

“On _vacation_ ,” Ward sighs.

Jemma shakes her head at them both. “While I was away, I had a dream that you, Grant Ward, had gone on a mission despite my orders.”

“A mission in Russia?” Skye asks eagerly.

“And that you were injured in an explosion. I cracked my hand on the nightstand when I came awake. So you see, if you weren’t _so much trouble_ , I wouldn’t be in this situation.” She gestures to the still-unopened kit. He obligingly pulls the plastic cover away and sets it on the table. “Thank you,” she says.

“Anytime,” he sighs, apparently resigned to his fate. He motions with his head for Skye to follow and, from the sound of her groan echoing back through the doors, uses added drills as a means to revenge for her prodding.

 

 

 

“I got that,” Ward says later, coming up behind her in the kitchen. His chest is warm at her back as he grabs the bowl she was reaching for.

She is seriously regretting her little game. She should have known better than to tempt fate, but it’s just the sort of silliness that’s become commonplace aboard the Bus. If she was really over him, she should have been able to engage in this sort of behavior with him without growing uncomfortable.

She is definitely uncomfortable.

All she wants to do is lean back into the warm strength of his chest and ask him to kiss her hand to make it better. Which, despite the obvious medical limitations, would make her feel wonderful.

“Hey, you okay?” His hands brush over her shoulders and then - _oh_ \- he’s holding her hand.

She worries she might be dreaming again. Is it normal for an unfortunate crush to lead to frightfully realistic dreams?

“Have you taken something for the pain?” he asks, eyes on her face instead of her splint.

She forces her mouth to form a smile. “I think that’s my line.” He is the absolute worst about taking his pain meds.

He smiles back and, as usual, his smile is lovely. Just this barely there thing that changes his whole face. “Seriously, Simmons. Are you feeling okay? Back in the lab-”

“Oh, I shouldn’t have badgered you,” she says, hoping to put an end to the game here and now. “I really am fine. I was just having some fun.”

“You sure?” Ward asks. He drops her hand and she resists the urge to hide it behind her back. “Not shaken up any?”

“Over Coulson?” she asks, confused. They’ve all spoken to SHIELD counselors about their commanding officer’s abduction and how it affected them, and it’s not like she was in any real danger during the ordeal. A month of rest and relaxation has done all for her that can be done, any remaining stress will only be dealt with over time.

Ward crosses his arms over his chest and tips his head sideways in a way that says he doesn’t buy her act. She wishes she knew what her act _was_.

“An explosion?” he asks. “That’s what your dream was?”

“Yes,” she says slowly, unsure where this is going.

“Like, I don’t know, the one at a London office building three weeks ago?”

Oh. That’s where this is going.

He doesn’t bother to ask if she was there. Either he somehow knew she lied about her plans or her expression gives her away. Instead he ducks his head to look her more in the eye. “Were you hurt?”

She shakes her head. “I wasn’t anywhere near there. I slept through it actually,” she adds with a laugh. She spent all day in her hotel room, finally sleeping off her jet lag. The truth is, she was hiding. A month off and she never saw her parents once. Fitz doesn’t even know.

Ward touches her arm. She wants to lean into it. “But you were shaken up.” It’s not a question.

She hopes he doesn’t realize that her one-shouldered shrug is to shake him off. “A little, I suppose. I think it was mostly the shock that I’d slept through something so important, something that had the whole city mourning.” Her eyes drift to his shoulder. She’s already seen to the bullet wound there since coming back aboard. It’s well-healed, with barely even a scar left behind. He thanked her for doing such a good job with it. “And I imagine I was also a little worried about whether someone would follow my orders to take it easy.”

He steps back and holds his arms out wide, inviting her to look him over. “Hey, I’m the one who came back uninjured.”

She laughs to herself, more as an excuse to look away from him than anything.

“Really, Simmons,” he says, all teasing gone, “if you need any help - any at all - just ask. I’ll take care of you.”

“Thank you.” When he leaves, she can still feel his touch on her arm and shoulders.

 

 

 

_one hundred and twelve days after_

 

Jemma glances at the kitchen - at the counters and cupboards shattered by gunfire - and remembers that day so many months ago. How naïve she was then.

“How’d you know?” Ward asks, pulling her attention back to him. He rubs his jaw where she caught him with the fire extinguisher, but doesn’t seem terribly bothered by it. He’s practically lounging in that armchair.

“Koenig,” Skye says. She’s sitting hip to hip with Jemma, their hands clasped tightly between them. The Bus is parked in a private airfield - one Ward claims is safe, so Jemma has her doubts. Rather than risk allowing him into a civilian population, where he’d have his choice of hostages, they attempted to overpower him upon landing. And failed. Now they can only hope that the message Skye left for the others will be found soon.

Ward shrugs carelessly. “Well, that doesn’t really change much. I still need the hard drive.”

Skye laughs harshly, and the suddenness of it startles Jemma. Skye squeezes her hands in silent apology, but her biting tone is all for Ward. “You honestly think I’ll tell you how to decrypt it? I’m not giving it to _HYDRA_.”

Ward leans forward and, absurdly, Jemma’s first thought is that it must hurt his ribs. “Listen, I know what you’re both thinking. You made a good go of it, fighting back, and you think you can do it again - or at the very least keep me occupied until Coulson comes to save you.” He fixes them with a stern look, ensuring he has their full attention. “You can’t. So save us all a lot of trouble and just give me the coordinates.”

Jemma squares her jaw. It’s up to her to take the lead here. She’s a SHIELD scientist (or was); she has training to endure torture - but Skye has none. Whatever Ward tries to do to them, they can’t give in. _Jemma_ can’t give in.

She meets his eyes, refusing to back down. Just a few hours ago she was dragging him back into the lab for a second check-up. How did she not realize, when she found nothing, that he was faking to avoid going on the mission with the others? She almost can’t believe now that she was glad for the excuse to stay behind herself. That the only times she’s felt safe since hearing the word _HYDRA_ , were those few moments he’s been with the team.

But he was never _with_ the team. He was never anything but a mole, a spy, a traitor.

He glances at his watch. She wonders if he’s on a time limit.

“Skye,” he says sternly, “just give me the coordinates. Make this easy for everyone. Once I’ve got the hard drive, I’ll even let you go. No hard feelings.”

Skye might miss it, but Jemma doesn’t. He’ll let _Skye_ go. (Possibly. Unlikely.) She’s been an agent for less than a week. She’s practically a civilian. But Jemma? Jemma is one of the brightest scientific minds on the planet. HYDRA won’t be letting her go so easily.

“Don’t,” Jemma says. She tears her eyes from Ward to face Skye. “We have no reason to believe anything he says.”

Skye’s pale and her hands shake, but she’s strong. She’s not backing down.

“Damn,” Ward sighs. “I really didn’t want it to go this way. I mean, it was always going to - not my fault, by the way. If you’d just told the truth…” He shakes his head and meets Jemma’s eyes. Whatever he’s on about, she is not going to like this. “I’m not going to torture you,” he says. His smile is sharper than it was this morning. “I might have, under different circumstances, but it turns out I don’t have to.” He leans back in the chair. “Simmons? I want you to take a deep breath. Compliance is necessary. Compliance will be rewarded.”

 

 

 

_forty-seven hours before_

 

Jemma cries out, pain pulling her abruptly back to wakefulness.

“Shh,” a familiar voice soothes. “You’re okay.”

All at once she becomes aware of several facts: She is on - not _in_ \- a bed in a room she doesn’t recognize. She’s been rolled onto her side and there’s someone laying next to her, she can feel his legs resting alongside hers and his hip braced against her back. She can also feel his fingers moving in her hair, separating it around the source of her pain.

“Don’t move, okay?” This time she’s sure the voice belongs to Ward and is forced to wonder whether she might still be dreaming. Less than a week into her vacation - during which she hopes to lose her preoccupation with him - and it wouldn’t be the first dream she’s had featuring him.

And that brings to mind what happened to land her here. She was heading back to her hotel in London (she hasn’t been _avoiding_ her parents, just … choosing to use her downtime to go to a conference instead), when she saw a man she could have sworn was Ward entering an office building. Her hopeless crush was the obvious culprit, but, with nothing better to do, she waited a few minutes, wondering if she might catch another glimpse of the man who could not possibly be Grant Ward. But soon enough he reappeared, and he wasn't a hallucination.

She couldn’t say why - perhaps boredom after only one week of her avoidance-oriented vacation, perhaps simple curiosity as to what had brought him to her part of the world - but she approached him. “Didn’t you save my life once?” she asked teasingly.

He stuttered to a stop, his face going carefully blank. She realized then that this might have been a mistake. He could be on a mission, and she just compromised him!

Except he could _not_ be on a mission. She expressly forbid him from going into the field. Even if SHIELD was desperate for him in particular, someone would have contacted her to double check that sending him in his current state would only be dangerous, not deadly.

She stepped closer, dropping her voice low so no passersby would overhear. “Grant Ward, don’t you dare tell me you are on a mission. You know that shoulder-”

Something in his expression stopped her. There was resignation there, and for some reason it reminded her of her own decision to leap from the Bus. His eyes lifted away from her, to something - some _one_ , she’s sure now - over her shoulder. There was a brief jolt of pain in her skull then, followed by nothing at all.

“What happened?” she asks, tilting her chin down slightly to help him get a better angle with whatever he’s doing. It seems to help.

“You took a nasty hit to the head. Lucky I was there to catch you.” He presses a warm cloth to the area. She wishes he would go back to running his fingers through her hair. “Probably feels worse than it is. You don’t even need stitches.”

She forces a brave laugh. “Good. I can’t imagine how I would have managed to do that.”

His hip rocks into her back. “I can do a simple suture.”

This time her laughter is genuine. Ward’s told her before which of his scars were injuries he tended himself. She was not impressed.

He continues his ministrations, soothing the area and wiping what she imagines to be blood out of her hair. It gives her time to take a closer look at the room. At first she thought they must be in a hotel, but there aren’t near enough homey touches. This is an official facility. Which only makes her more certain that he ignored her orders. She plans on confronting him about it, but he stops and moves aside. She doesn’t realize how heavily she’s been leaning against him until she falls ungracefully onto her back.

“What’s the date?” he asks, either not noticing her wide-eyed stare or ignoring it altogether.

He’s still in the bed with her - on the bed, _on_ the bed! - and she fights down a blush while she answers him. She should have been following his lead, worrying about brain damage, not wishing they were _in_ instead of _on_.

“Damn,” he mutters. A jolt of fear effectively shuts down her libido. “Sorry, no,” he says quickly, seeing her reaction. “That’s right.” He draws one of his legs up to his chest and rests his arm atop it. “I was just kind of hoping there’d be some short term memory loss. Then we could avoid this next part.”

She pushes herself up into a sitting position and twists around to face him so they aren’t next to each other. Her head spins a little, but it’s manageable. “You mean the part where I demand to know why you ignored my express orders to take it easy during your leave?”

He smiles, but there was no joy in it. “No, Simmons. This is gonna be a lot worse than that.”

 

 

 

_one hundred and twelve days after_

 

Jemma remembers London. She remembers breaking her hand in the struggle to fight off Ward’s fellow HYDRA agents. She remembers the dark room, the voice that never ceased, the single point of light like a beacon in the void. She remembers the truth.

She wants to comply.

Skye is saying something, questioning Ward’s sanity, but Jemma ignores her.

“Simmons,” Ward says. “Come sit over here with me.”

Jemma untangles her hands from Skye’s and smoothly stands. Ward probably expects her to take the seat beside him, but along with her memories and the freedom of compliance has come a certainty: Ward protects her. He tried to protect her from herself in London and he’s been protecting her from SHIELD ever since. That’s why he faked his worsening injuries to keep her close. Part of her always understood that.

She sits across his lap. He seems surprised, but not in a bad way. His smile is bemused and his hand moves automatically to her hip, holding her in place.

“Kiss me,” he says.

She doesn’t give him a quick peck on the cheek or lips. She’s been wanting to kiss him for months, she’s not about to waste the opportunity. She takes her time, pairing lingering kisses with slight shifts of her weight across his legs. By the time she’s done, she can feel him straining against his jeans. She smiles, pleased by the reaction, and rests her head against his shoulder.

“What,” Skye asks, sounding strangled, “did you do to her?”

Ward toys with the hem of her sweater. “A while back, Simmons caught me doing a job for HYDRA when SHIELD thought I was elsewhere. Just a wrong place at the wrong time kind of thing. With anyone else, I could’ve spun it, but with Simmons?” He shakes his head, hissing in disappointment. She looks up, worried she’s done something wrong. He stops playing with her sweater and runs his hand soothingly down her back. She relaxes again, pressing a little closer to him. “She can’t lie. Even if I told her it was classified, she’d have told someone about it eventually.”

“So you replaced her with a _pod person_?” It almost sounds like Skye hopes that’s the case.

“One of HYDRA’s leaders has a passion for bringing people over to our way of thinking,” Grant says. Whitehall. Jemma remembers his clammy hands on her face, the way his skin felt like it didn’t fit around his fingers. He has her loyalty and respect, but she doesn’t have to like him.

Skye's voice is barely audible. “You brainwashed her?”

Ward catches the hand Jemma’s trying to slip through the open collar of his shirt. She wants him, maybe more than she did before, but that doesn’t mean he wants her. He meets her eyes as he kisses the tips of her fingers. Well. That’s a relief.

He holds her hand to his chest, running his thumb over her knuckles. “I think we can both agree this little display wasn’t terrible for her.” Jemma knows he kissed Skye in the Hub and again at Providence. She tries not to let it worry her. Ward will take care of her. “But if you don’t give me those coordinates…” He pushes her up with his shoulder. She feels cold when his arm unwinds from her back. “Jemma?” he asks. He’s never used her first name before. She likes it very much. He takes off his watch and begins fastening it around her wrist. “Garrett gave me twenty-four hours to get that hard drive. There’s an alarm set on this that’ll go off when my time’s up. When that happens, if I don’t have the hard drive - decrypted, in my hand - I want you to jump out of this plane.”

“No!” Skye yells.

Jemma stares down at the clock face. The metal backing of the watch is still warm from Ward’s skin. She’ll do as he says.

 

 

 

Jemma has been brainwashed, she hasn’t suddenly lost half her IQ points. She knows what’s going on. So she really doesn’t appreciate the way Skye tries to turn her against Ward while Jemma escorts her to the Cage.

“You have to fight this,” she pleads. “Simmons, come on. You’re so much stronger than this.”

Yes, Jemma thought that too for a while. Before she learned the truth.

She places her hand on the Cage door to pull it closed. “Compliance,” she says, “will be rewarded.” The words do not comfort Skye the way they do Jemma, but it’s the best she can offer.

She seals the door and moves ahead to the cockpit to report to Ward. He’s already got them climbing for the altitude Skye gave. Jemma keeps to the doorway.

“She’s good,” Ward says, sensing her presence. “She could’ve kept us flying around the world forever and we never would’ve known.” He hits a few buttons so he can turn to face her. “Lucky I had you.”

Jemma preens under the praise.

“I’ve got orders to drop you off with Whitehall before I take the hard drive to Garrett.”

She’s not sure what to think of that. Whitehall taught her the truth; she doesn’t want to let him down. But she also doesn’t want to leave Ward. All that fear and uncertainty she felt at the Hub, the worry only he could get rid of, she knows once he’s gone it will return. Not even Whitehall’s lessons can stop that.

“I don’t have to though.” Ward’s looking at her in that way he means to seem casual, but she can feel the measure in it. “Do you want me to?”

She frowns. What she wants is unimportant.

“Don’t,” he says quickly. “Don’t lie to me, Simmons.” She recoils at his return to her last name. He stands and approaches her to run his hands over her arms. “How long have you wanted me?”

The desire to be compliant doesn’t erase her embarrassment, it only makes it less important. “Since you saved my life.”

He grins. It’s not the same grin he’s worn for months, the one she loved. This one is sharper. She prefers it. “Oh, that narrows it down,” he laughs.

“The virus, when you jumped after me.”

He squeezes her shoulders. “I kind of figured,” he says, like it’s a secret.

Before he can move away, she catches his purpling jaw. She’s sorry she struck him now.

“It’s okay,” he says, resting his hand over hers, “you didn’t know. But you’re out of the woods now, right?”

She nods definitively.

“Good. Now tell me the truth: do you want to go to Whitehall?”

Compliance wars with compliance until a very small “no” wells up from within her.

“You’re still allowed to want things,” Ward says. “You want to comply, right? It‘s just a question of which you act on first.”

He waits, expecting an answer. “Compliance,” she says.

He pats her shoulder once more before returning to the pilot’s seat. “Don’t worry, I’ll get you to Whitehall eventually. But first we’ve got a lot to do.”

 

 

 

Jemma doesn’t worry. Not about Whitehall. Not about Ward’s order to jump if Skye doesn’t give them what they need. She trusts Ward. He’ll take care of her.

So she doesn’t stop her work in the lab when the plane lands hours before they should have reached Cuba. And she doesn’t worry when they take off again moments later. Ward has his reasons, she’s sure of it.

What gives her pause, is Coulson in tactical gear, coming through the door to storage. He smiles when he sees her.

“That landing gear’s not as roomy as it looks.” He crosses the lab in quick strides and grips her shoulder. “Did he hurt you?”

She shakes her head, feeling vaguely numb.

“Skye?” he asks.

“Upstairs,” she says. Maybe she can attack him from behind. Maybe she can stop him from hurting Ward, from getting in the way. She tries to remember where she left the fire extinguisher.

He’s surprised when he steps in front of the doors and they open without any trouble, but the both of them are distracted by a beeping from her wrist. Ward’s time is up.

“What’s that?” Coulson asks, concerned.

She flashes the watch at him. “He … he wanted me to know how much time I had left,” she says dully. Her orders override even protecting Ward. And he can protect himself against Coulson just fine. He doesn’t need her.

Coulson forces her face up with what’s meant to be a comforting hand beneath her ear. “Stay here. I’ll be back for you.”

She lets him go, eager to get to work. She has to wait until he’s well and truly gone or risk being stopped, and fills the time by straightening up the lab before she goes. She keeps to the edge of the cargo bay, pausing twice along the way. Once is fine, but twice is unacceptable. It _hurts_ to put off what she knows must be done. She opens the doors with a shaking hand.

She tries not to look, but it’s almost impossible not to. All that open air, it makes her heart pound louder than the roaring wind.

“Jemma!” 

Her head snaps around. Ward’s standing on the catwalk. Coulson’s got a gun on him and looks tense, worried, furious. Skye’s a few feet back, nursing her arm and looking between Jemma and Ward. Jemma doesn’t care about either of them. She only sees Ward. And the hard drive in his lifted hand.

“It’s decrypted,” Skye says. “I swear. Just come back in, Simmons.”

Ward smiles at her. Lovely. Jemma's heart lifts.

And then Ward knocks the gun out of Coulson’s grip to leap over the edge. He runs for her. She hastily clips the parachute across her chest, managing it the second before Ward barrels into her, sending them both out into the open air.


	2. the long road ahead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the one sentence fics meme (version 2) and while there are extras to this fic - such as a POV switch and a few headcanons - on my blog, this does not necessarily hold any of that as canon.

 

 

**before**

 

**Weather**

Stereotypical London weather has disappeared, giving him a bright, sunshiny day - a bitch for a guy who wants to cover up under raincoats and umbrellas - and it almost seems wrong to ruin it with his bombing; he starts to think the universe really is punishing him for it when he hears her voice.

 

**Regret**

She puts up a hell of a fight - better than he would’ve expected - but it’s not enough and soon they’re dragging her out of the room and all she can do is twist in their arms to throw her last punch: a glare that hits him right in the gut.

 

**Reason**

She can’t feel her body outside of her hurts (is there more to her than the steadily swelling hand and the aching head and bruised jaw? She honestly can’t tell) and she can’t remember anymore why the pale man is wrong when he says - and so sensibly too - that all she has to do in order to end her pain is comply.

 

 

**after**

 

**Peace**

He thought she’d be different - after - but the only hint of hesitation in her welcoming smile is from the bruising along her jaw.

 

**After**

Once Whitehall signs off on her, Grant takes her back to her hotel himself and he’s the one who gives her the order to sleep and to forget and then he holds her broken hand for another hour, just watching her sleep as only the compliant can.

 

 

**hibernation**

 

**Pretend**

Jemma knows it’s due to her crush - of _course_ the operative trained to spot and exploit attraction saw it a mile away and of _course_ he’d report on it just like everything else about the team - but even while that knowledge has heat rising in her cheeks, she refuses to give Lorelei’s knowing looks the dignity of her notice as that wretched woman is dragged from the Bus.

 

**Before**

There are a lot of lines he’s crossed without the slightest reservation and he knows this is better than any of those - she won’t be hurt, she’ll be _happy_ even - and he’ll be able to finish the damn mission with barely any fuss so long as Skye doesn’t get any ideas - hell, he probably should’ve done this in the first place - but the truth is he really doesn’t want to.

 

 

**activation**

 

**Trip**

She’s attached to his side all the way to Cuba and no matter how tight he holds her or how many comforting words he whispers in her ear, she won’t stop shaking; he can’t bring himself to order her to stop.

 

**Beauty**

“Such a pretty little caged bird,” Raina says the first time they meet on the same side of things and laughs when Jemma clings closer to Grant.

 

**Greed**

He laughs with John over how _easy_ it would be to steal one of Whitehall’s toys and lets him make the leap to actually doing it, but the truth is that Grant decided on his own to keep her long before Whitehall started demanding her transfer.

 

**Passion**

John makes ugly jokes and Whitehall’s smarmy little right-hand sneers, but the truth is that when they’re by themselves in Grant’s quarters, Jemma’s in charge - always.

 

 

**recovery**

 

**Dreaming**

When she would wake up screaming from nightmares that are meant to be buried, his hand is always on her mouth and his voice in her ear reminding her she can’t tell a soul she remembers or she’ll be taken from him again.

 

**Pride**

Coulson already thinks he’s scum and nothing he says is gonna change that, so he sticks to his guns and refuses to give even the tiniest bit of intel until he sees Jemma’s okay.

 

**Envy**

After one particularly horrid crying fit, Kara confesses she hates Jemma for being so free; Jemma admits to wishing she could go back to before she was.

 

**Difficulty**

They want her to be better so badly and she can’t give them that, it’s just not in her anymore - but she could at least pretend she doesn’t care for him or miss him or wish he were here; that she _won’t_ give them.

 


End file.
